Amor Fati
by ebitto
Summary: She is bitten, and he is going to fix her.


A/N: I got the idea for this literally out of the blue as I woke up this morning.  
I don't really know where this is going (I'm lying), but I hope you'll come along for the ride! I'll leave it up to you to go google what _Amor Fati_ means.  
Hint: it's Latin. If you're familiar with my other stories, you know that I place great significance on titles and chapter names, sobe sure to keep an eye out!  
Also, I'd like to point out that the Titans are slightly older in this fic, all of them in their very early twenties.

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own the Teen Titans. Check back later.

Without any further ado, here is the first chapter of _Amor Fati._

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: Fortuna Caeca Est**

Fate is Blind

* * *

A soft _plink_ brings Raven's attention to the sink, where a tooth rests precariously at the edge of the drain. It takes her a moment to realize that it is _her _tooth, and she blinks at it, lowering her toothbrush.

Sudden pain has her bent over the sink, gripping its porcelain sides so hard her knuckles rival their whiteness. Raven groans, and a line of crimson dribbles down her chin and pools in the sink, pushing the teetering tooth over the edge and into the drain. The pain is enough to make her nauseous, and abstractly she wonders if she shouldn't be bent over the toilet instead. Her jaw feels like it is on fire.

With some difficulty, she raises her head to the mirror to look inside her mouth, but a knock at the door interrupts her.

"Raven, please, I beg you—it's been, like, an _hour_ already."

Why Beast Boy always needs to use the facilities at the same time as she escapes her, but she is unable to curse him around the pain, so she settles for a noncommittal grunt instead. And it has _not_ been an hour. Twenty minutes, tops.

The pain abates slowly, and Raven composes herself. Briskly she rinses out her toothbrush and the sink before the blood can stain, and, hood raised, she wordlessly brushes past a nearly leaking Beast Boy and disappears into her rooms.

This is the fourth tooth Raven has lost this week, and she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The teeth, of course, grow back, however incredibly painful, and decidedly more predator-looking than before. She's exhausted her books on the subject of half-demoness tooth-loss-and-sudden-painful-regrowth but a voice in the back of her mind whispers that the answer has been staring her in the face the entire time.

Carefully, Raven removes her cloak. Her hands falter at the neckline of her leotard, but she squeezes her eyes shut and deftly unzips and removes the elastic fabric.

She is almost too afraid to look but she already knows what she will see as she opens her eyes. The wound has not healed, or even scarred over, for that matter. It is still as red and angry as the day she got it—four long lacerations reach from her collarbone, under her bra and across her right arm. Blood has seeped into the fabric of the bra once again, and she grimaces as she removes it.

It has been three days since it happened, and for each of those three days Raven had refused to entertain the possibility that she could be susceptible to a werewolf's bite—or scratch for that matter—given her demonic ancestry and general imperviousness to human ails. After the second tooth had found its way into the sink, however, and her sudden craving for carpaccio had intensified, Raven began to have doubts.

It was irresponsible of her to keep it to herself, she knew, not to mention dangerous. But could she not be afforded just a tiny bit of normalcy after she averted the apocalypse? Could she be blamed for simply wanting everything to _just be okay_, even if only for a little while?

Little wet spots appear on the white fabric of the bra she holds in her hands and Raven is surprised to find tears are rolling steadily down her cheeks. Her curtains rip themselves to tatters as she angrily wipes them away. As far as she knows, there is no cure for lycanthropy. Would she be kicked off of the team? She most definitely would not be able to stay, not whilst she was capable of sprouting claws and fangs and generally being a fatal liability that the team could not manage. What would her friends say if they found out?

What would Robin say?

She and Robin had just moved past the awkward, rocky partnership of their youth, and now hung in that strange void between best friends and symbiosis, courtesy of the 'bond' incident, and, of course, the _apocalypse_. Afterwards, Raven had found that neither could make weighty decisions without consulting the other, and she often caught herself responding to something he'd asked her mentally, or vice versa.

Of course a wrench the size of Jump City had been thrown into their relationship after the events in Tokyo[1] a few years ago, leaving her uncertain of where they stood. Not that she wasn't happy for him—of _course_ she was—but Raven couldn't help but feel slightly bereft whenever he elected to spend 'quality time' with Starfire instead of joining her for their weekly tea and quiet meditation ritual. She tried not to feel bothered when she found them snogging in a darkened hallway, as awkward and _frankly inappropriate_ as that was, and she—civilly, if not quite politely—declined to discuss his kissing prowess with Starfire whenever she tried to gush about it.

Still, the thought of her leader-slash-not-quite-best-friend finding out and condemning her was terrifying to Raven, and part of the reason she waited so long to accept the truth. The other reason, though she did not want to admit it to herself, was the terrible feeling she got in her gut when she imagined the disgust in everyone's eyes if they saw her become a monster, _again_. It was silly, given that she was literally _spawn of Satan _and they accepted her, but how many times could she mess up before she fell out of their good graces for good?

A _swish_ from behind her causes her to spin around. Robin stands motionless in her doorway, and she can tell by the slight widening of his mask that he is in shock. Belatedly Raven realizes her state of undress and moves to cover herself, but he is at her side in an instant, impatiently brushing her hands out of his way.

"What. Happened." His voice is icy, and Raven falls a half step back. He's removed his mask to see the wound better and she is sure that her skin beneath the wound boils as his blue eyes glare down at her mercilessly.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"That is a. Vast. Understatement."

Raven moves to cover herself once more, flames rising in her cheeks as she tries to pull her leotard up over her torso. It's not as if he hasn't seen her in less before, or she, him—or the rest of the team for that matter—as clothing was usually the first to go during intense battles or in the medilab. But this feels different, somehow. Perhaps because he is standing so close to her, or perhaps because he is standing so close to her in her _darkened bedroom_ and they are about two steps away from her bed and his red-headed girlfriend could walk in at _any minute_. Or perhaps it is just her.

Robin stops her again as she moves to pull the leotard up and over her shoulder, grabbing her wrist so that just the claw marks are visible. His voice is softer as he says, "When did this happen?"

"Last week," she says glumly, "During the battle with the Haints.[2]"

Robin goes silent for a minute, gears turning. She works out the exact moment he figures it out, and his eyes flick back to hers in alarm. "You don't mean…"

Raven averts her eyes. "Yes. This is exactly what you think it is. I already know what you're going to say—" She stops speaking as his hands are suddenly on her face.

"You were crying." It is a statement, not a question. Briefly Raven wonders if she can pass off her reddened eyes as a side-effect of lycanthropy, but Robin shakes his head. "I could feel you hurting—that's why I came in here without knocking."

Raven doesn't know why she ever thought she could hide it from him—their bond was strong. Too strong, apparently. "There's…there's no cure, Robin." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "The full moon is in one month. I need to be far—far away from here by then."

"What are you talking about?" Robin looks at her incredulously. "Far away? You're not going anywhere—"

"Well, I certainly can't stay here, now can I, Robin?!" Raven forces her voice to be stern. "It's far too dangerous, and you know it."

Robin scoffs, his expression turning stubborn, the familiar glint of determination sparking in his eyes. "As if that's ever stopped any of us before, you especially."

"No, Robin." Raven pushes Robin's hands away and finishes zipping her leotard. "I will not allow this team to be endangered because of me—not again!"

"So that's what this is about." He follows her as she tries to put space between them. Her knees hit the edge of her bed and she is trapped between it and his broad chest. "This is the prophecy all over again. You're _afraid_—"

"_Of course I'm afraid!" _Raven all but yells, causing the already dim lights to flicker dangerously. "How many times do I have to hurt you or the rest of the team before you—"

"SHUT _UP_!" Robin roars, fed up, and Raven chokes, forgetting the entire tail end of her sentence. "When are you going to stop dancing around me and the team like we're fragile little children?!"

He is still standing too close and Raven turns her face to relieve some of the tension. His fingers find her chin and she finds herself unwillingly captive in his gaze once more. "We're not kids, anymore, Rae." Robin continues, softer this time. "Hell, we shouldn't even really be calling ourselves the 'Teen' Titans anymore either, but you get my point.[3] Whatever this is, we are going to fix it. I _promise_ you."

For the second time that day, Raven is fighting tears. "Promise me only that if we can't find a way to fix this before the next full moon that…that you'll do what needs to be done." She can feel the ferocity of his determination through their bond, and it is giving her the oddest feeling in her chest. She brushes it off as the wound smarting. "We have less than twenty-eight days."

Robin regards her seriously and, after a moment's pause, nods. He knows and she knows that he has no intentions of following through, but that is the best she is going to get from him.

"Then we'd better get started."

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[1] - This fic takes place three or so years after Trouble in Tokyo, and assumes that Raven's apocalypse incident occurred before that.

[2] - 'Haint' is a southern slang word for ghost or haunt. This will become relevant in later chapters.

[3] - As I said before, the Titans are slightly older in this fic. I'd place Raven and Robin around 21, Cyborg around 23 or so, Starfire at however many the hell old she is because I'm pretty sure Tameranians keep age differently–err–22, and Beast Boy being the youngest at 20.

That being said, please don't hesitate to point out any errors you find (I'm in great need of a beta)! Any feedback is appreciated. See you next moon phase!


End file.
